Still Too Many People

"All those of eligible age, board the ship immediately for aptitude testing!"

So noisy. Am I not dead? Ahab Gul rubbed his temples, struggling to open his eyes as he instinctively surveyed his surroundings.

A gray, overcast sky, rows of stone-built houses, and a harbor filled with seagulls and petrels—this didn't look like home at all.

He had been leaning against an oak wine barrel, apparently having just taken a short nap.

Could it be that I've transmigrated? Memories flooded in like a tidal wave, and Ahab felt a splitting headache, as if parasites were burrowing into his brain.

This was Graz Port, the largest port city in the southwest.

Every ten years, wizards would cross the ocean to select eligible candidates with wizarding aptitude.

At this moment, an exquisite mechanical vessel floated on the sea, looking completely out of place against the medieval backdrop of the surroundings.

The original owner of this body was one of those eligible candidates; terrified of leaving home, he had hidden at the docks to drink his sorrows away, only to find himself unable to breathe as he drank more and more...

Ahab was speechless for a second, cursing bluntly in his heart:

What a waste of space!

Recalling his life before the transmigration, he hadn't been some small-town academic high-achiever, nor did he start with a degree from a prestigious university.

But he had relied on his own ruthlessness and shamelessness to carve out a career for himself.

It was a pity that he had ultimately been cut down by a man's sudden rage, his blood staining the ground five paces away, only to wake up here.

With extraordinary power, he wouldn't have to worry about such things.

Straightening his dark red hair, Ahab stood up and walked toward the gangplank.

A long line for aptitude testing had already formed there.

"Place your hands on the crystal ball."

Standing on the boarding deck was a male apprentice wearing a black robe.

He didn't look very old, but the metal badge on his chest clearly indicated his status:

First-Rank Apprentice, New Blood Apprentice Mentor, Gray.

At this moment, at the very front of the gangplank line, a young boy was extending his hands to touch the crystal ball hovering in mid-air.

"9 points of mental power, Third-Rank meditation talent."

Gray identified the level of the crystal ball's glow and said, his expression as calm as an ancient well:

"Your room is in the middle deck, room 648."

With such aptitude, even with diligent effort, he would only have a hope of becoming a Second-Rank Apprentice; recruiting him wasn't much of an achievement.

The line on the white gangplank continued to move forward, and then a young girl extended her hands, causing the crystal ball to erupt with a blinding light.

"15 points of mental power, Fifth-Rank meditation talent!"

This was the highest aptitude one could reach innately; if she were to become a formal wizard in the future, the recruiter would gain a massive amount of Academy contribution.

Gray's tone softened involuntarily as he pointed toward the upper deck behind him.

"Stay in the top deck cabin; once we reach the Academy, I will prioritize allocating resources to you."

"On this ship, you deserve a single room and a private washroom."

Seven or eight more candidates stepped forward afterward, but none were selected.

Soon, Ahab arrived at the front of the gangplank.

"Place your hands on the crystal ball!"

Ahab touched the cold crystal ball with his palm, and suddenly his brow twitched, as if he had a premonition.

Looking at the faint glow on the crystal ball, the First-Rank Apprentice Gray's expression froze, his face seemingly stamped with the word "disdain."

"Mental power 6 points, Second-Rank meditation talent..."

This aptitude barely scraped by the minimum requirement; he would be lucky just to become a Third-Rank Apprentice.

In years past, people like this were just used as fertilizer.

"The number of apprentices under my name is getting smaller and smaller, and my Academy contribution is almost at the bottom... Forget it, one more is better than none."

The First-Rank Apprentice Gray waved his hand impatiently, deciding that once they reached the Academy, he wouldn't give him any resources at all.

"Bottom deck, bottom deck! Room 404."

Ahab took his identity tag and walked onto the deck, feeling indifferent.

In his past life, he had operated in North Burma, crossed into South Vietnam, and panned for gold in Africa; he was a man of iron will who had fought his way through a dozen countries. He was not only cunning and treacherous, and shameless, but also incredibly resilient.

So what if he lost at the starting line? At the very least, he now had the opportunity to touch the extraordinary and stir up trouble.

Just as Ahab was preparing to go and see his cabin, a small black dot suddenly appeared before his eyes.

No, that wasn't right—the black dot expanded rapidly, eventually transforming into a thick book.

The book had a simple gray-white cover, devoid of any title or patterns, save for a blood-red palm print that looked fresh.

Before Ahab could do anything, the cover of the thick book flipped open on its own, revealing the contents of the first page:

[February 25th, my first day since transmigrating.]

[A sudden intuition struck me; perhaps I should organize my experiences since arriving here into a diary.]

[At my current level, there is no such thing as coincidence in my eyes. I cannot rule out the possibility that someone is baiting me, but it is more likely a warning from my wizard true spirit—I have decided to start writing immediately, using a script that belongs only to me.]

"Is the content on this... Chinese?"

Ahab was puzzled for a second, then a thick sense of vigilance rose in his heart.

Since he had transmigrated, everyone spoke a language based on individual words, similar to the Germanic languages; no one spoke Chinese.

Coupled with the description of the transmigration... was this a diary left for himself by his future self?

Ahab kept his head still, his eyes darting sharply to the right and then quickly to the left, cautiously observing his surroundings.

Confirming that no one else was paying attention to him, he raised his gaze, pretending to watch the seabirds while actually using his intent to make the diary float upward.

[This fleet, aside from daily rations, has 'exceptionally' loaded several barrels of rum, and they have been laced with a lethal poison.]

[Inciting students to rob and harm one another is a common tactic among the Wizard Academies.]

[Quite a few people, out of shyness, did not go to the academy ship to drink... but overall, the group still suffered more than fifty percent casualties.]

[With fewer people to split the resources, even with my poor aptitude, my early days were still quite manageable.]

[The poison in the wine is a virus, similar to smallpox; once you have been infected, you are no longer in danger. The original owner died from the poison because he stole a drink before boarding...]

Oh, no wonder I woke up in front of an oak wine barrel when I transmigrated.

But what does my future self mean by writing this?

Aptitude, resource allocation, academy contributions, having one more is better than having none at all...

Ahab pondered for a moment, the corners of his mouth suddenly curling up by a single pixel.

"Thanks, old me."

"So it kills half the people, huh? As a transmigrator, I simply cannot bear to watch such life-and-death partings."